Upstate, July 2017Every year I go back to Upstate New York. I didn't actually like my four years there -- too remote, too isolated, too rustic. But I liked my Troy, the SUNY French major who was my boyfriend for 3 to 5 years (depending on how you calculate).
Troy has a new boyfriend, Charles, a 49-year old ex-Marine who runs the sanitation system of the city of Canajoharie. It is apparently rather lucrative, since they have a very nice house there plus a cabin on a lake near Cooperstown.
I hadn't met Charles before this trip, but I saw some photos: round face, hairy chest, thick biceps, square workman's hands, an uncut Kielbasa hanging down.
"You and Bob [the 19-year old economics major] can stay with us," Troy said -- a godsend in baseball season, when every hotel in a 50 mile radius of Cooperstown jacks up the rates. "Can you come for Charles' 50th birthday party on July 8th? Every gay guy in the state will be there -- it will be intense."
Just as we were driving into Otsego County, I got a text from Troy. "Change of plans -- we're spending the week at Charles' grandparents's lake house. But don't worry, we told them the situation, and they said it's fine for you to be there."
I didn't want to spend three nights in the home of elderly heterosexuals I'd never met, but it was too late to back out -- every decent hotel nearby was sure to be booked solid.
There are two versions of what happened next.
Boomer's version:
Friday
We have dinner with Troy and Charles in Cooperstown, and then follow them to the lake house: 10 miles on narrow dirt roads. I'm completely lost.
It's not a big house: 3 bedrooms, a living room, a small kitchen, two decks, and a dock. No wifi, which means no course prep, Facebook, or Grindr. A TV that is turned constantly to CNN, unless it's off, and a cd of whiny female vocalists is playing instead. Charles grandparents, retired professors in their 80s, tell us about 50 years of happy memories in this house. When Charles was a boy, he and his parents would come out almost every weekend during the summer.
"Hey, we should go for a midnight boat ride!" Charles exclaims. "Like when I was a kid."
I'm not a fan of swimming or boating. I don't even like driving over a bridge. In Florida I lived four blocks from the beach and never went into the water. And I especially don't want to go boating in the middle of the night. I politely refuse, but Bob exclaims "Cool! I'm in!"
After they leave, I sit up for a few more minutes, then go to bed. It's a room right next to the grandparents, which means no sharing with Troy and Charles! I'm not even sure I want to have sex with Bob here: the walls are very thin.
A few minutes later, Toby the golden retriever scratches at the door. Turns out this is his bed.
I fall asleep, and wake up about an hour later when Bob slides into bed between me and the dog and puts his arms around me. "We went skinny dipping!" he whispered. "Wow, is Charles ever hung! You should see him!"
"I hope to."
Bob's mouth moves down my chest to my crotch. "There's a dog in bed with us," I protest.
"He won't care."
"Plus Charles' grandparents are just next door."
"I'll be quiet."
Saturday
In the morning we drive into town to go to the rather spartan YMCA, and then find a coffee house with wifi so I can do some work for my online summer school classes. Then we go back to the lake house.
In the early afternoon, guests start to arrive, until there are over 40 people crammed into the small house and on the decks and in the boats. I introduce myself one by one, trying to figure out who the gay ones are
Charles' brother? A chunky bear in a red shirt.
His cousin? Muscular frame going to fat, and trunks that kept riding down along his butt, big basket.
His nephew? Mid-20s, short hair, muscular frame, with a tattoo of a crow figure in a loincloth stomping on a lion, and another of Ferdinand the Bull.
There are two versions of what happened next.
Boomer's version:
We have dinner with Troy and Charles in Cooperstown, and then follow them to the lake house: 10 miles on narrow dirt roads. I'm completely lost.
It's not a big house: 3 bedrooms, a living room, a small kitchen, two decks, and a dock. No wifi, which means no course prep, Facebook, or Grindr. A TV that is turned constantly to CNN, unless it's off, and a cd of whiny female vocalists is playing instead. Charles grandparents, retired professors in their 80s, tell us about 50 years of happy memories in this house. When Charles was a boy, he and his parents would come out almost every weekend during the summer.
"Hey, we should go for a midnight boat ride!" Charles exclaims. "Like when I was a kid."
I'm not a fan of swimming or boating. I don't even like driving over a bridge. In Florida I lived four blocks from the beach and never went into the water. And I especially don't want to go boating in the middle of the night. I politely refuse, but Bob exclaims "Cool! I'm in!"
After they leave, I sit up for a few more minutes, then go to bed. It's a room right next to the grandparents, which means no sharing with Troy and Charles! I'm not even sure I want to have sex with Bob here: the walls are very thin.
A few minutes later, Toby the golden retriever scratches at the door. Turns out this is his bed.
I fall asleep, and wake up about an hour later when Bob slides into bed between me and the dog and puts his arms around me. "We went skinny dipping!" he whispered. "Wow, is Charles ever hung! You should see him!"
"I hope to."
Bob's mouth moves down my chest to my crotch. "There's a dog in bed with us," I protest.
"He won't care."
"Plus Charles' grandparents are just next door."
"I'll be quiet."
In the morning we drive into town to go to the rather spartan YMCA, and then find a coffee house with wifi so I can do some work for my online summer school classes. Then we go back to the lake house.
In the early afternoon, guests start to arrive, until there are over 40 people crammed into the small house and on the decks and in the boats. I introduce myself one by one, trying to figure out who the gay ones are
Charles' brother? A chunky bear in a red shirt.
His cousin? Muscular frame going to fat, and trunks that kept riding down along his butt, big basket.
His nephew? Mid-20s, short hair, muscular frame, with a tattoo of a crow figure in a loincloth stomping on a lion, and another of Ferdinand the Bull.
A coworker? guy with red hair, beard, ponytail, and a smooth
chest?
An unidentified bearded hipster in his 40s?
The guests, male and female, child and adult, go swimming and boating and sit looking at the lake. A three-person band plays John Denver songs. We are invited to view a powerpoint photo montage of Charles through the years, including photos of him and two ex-boyfriends. Apparently he's been out for a long time. His family seems to be ok with it. But where are all his gay friends?
At 5:00 pm we eat barbecued chicken.
At 7:00 pm there are presents and cake.
I feel out of place amid all this heterosexual nuclear family business, but apparently Bob doesn't. He goes swimming with the Nephew, pontooning with the Uncle and Cousin, and kayaking with the Bearded Hipster. When it gets late, he goes outside, helping set off fireworks.
Around 9:00, he says "The Nephew is meeting his girlfriend in town, and he wants us to go. Are you up for it?"
A late night heterosexual rendezvous in a sleazy dive bar? "I'm a little tired. But you go ahead."
After awhile, I go to bed. Toby scratches at the door, and I let him in. Eventually Bob comes in, slides into bed, and puts his head on my chest.
"How was it?" I ask.
"Great! We went to this coffee house that had live music, and the Nephew introduced me to this guy who sings backup for Beyoncé!"
I know who that is, sort of.
At 7:00 pm there are presents and cake.
I feel out of place amid all this heterosexual nuclear family business, but apparently Bob doesn't. He goes swimming with the Nephew, pontooning with the Uncle and Cousin, and kayaking with the Bearded Hipster. When it gets late, he goes outside, helping set off fireworks.
Around 9:00, he says "The Nephew is meeting his girlfriend in town, and he wants us to go. Are you up for it?"
A late night heterosexual rendezvous in a sleazy dive bar? "I'm a little tired. But you go ahead."
After awhile, I go to bed. Toby scratches at the door, and I let him in. Eventually Bob comes in, slides into bed, and puts his head on my chest.
"How was it?" I ask.
"Great! We went to this coffee house that had live music, and the Nephew introduced me to this guy who sings backup for Beyoncé!"
I know who that is, sort of.
Sunday
The Coworker invites us to breakfast at his house, with his wife, two kids, and an unidentified guy named Erik.
Then we go into town to the Unitarian Church and to meet a couple of gay guys I knew for lunch. I am hoping to be invited to "share" afterwards, but they don't suggest it.
In the afternoon, Bob and I go to the Baseball Hall of Fame: tacky, expensive, and only for baseball fans. Afterwards we split up: I want to go to the used bookstore, and he wants to check out the tacky souvenir shops.
When we reunite, Bob has a high school boy in tow. "This is Jesus, from Mexico. He's staying with his parents are staying at the Otesaga Resort. He invited us to go swimming."
More swimming? We're staying at a lake!
"No thanks -- you go ahead. I'll meet you at the Otesaga in about two hours."
In the evening we have dinner with Troy and Charles, then return to the lake house. It's quite late, so I go to bed, leaving them watching CNN.
Before I can fall asleep, Bob and Troy come in.
"You're not getting out of here without a little sharing," Troy says with a grin.
"Be quiet -- grandparents in the next room."
"Oh, they're out on the deck, talking to Charles.
"And that's much better?"
Troy goes down on me while Bob and I kiss. But the situation is too weird, and I can't finish. He gives up and goes down on Bob instead, who finishes very quickly.
Monday
Charles and Troy have to get up very early to go to work, so Bob and I get up early, too. There's not even time for morning sex. We're on the road before the sun rises.
"Sorry you had to go through that ordeal," I tell Bob. "Charles' family was nice and all, but so darn heterosexual! I can't wait to get to the Flex Club in Cleveland, and get some action."
"What are you talking about?" Bob asks. "It was nonstop action. I can't even remember all the guys who went down on me. Not counting you, six -- no, seven! I had a blast!"
Obviously I was at a different lake house.
Next: Bob's Version
See also: 13 Guys in One Night at a Bathhouse in Cleveland
Then we go into town to the Unitarian Church and to meet a couple of gay guys I knew for lunch. I am hoping to be invited to "share" afterwards, but they don't suggest it.
In the afternoon, Bob and I go to the Baseball Hall of Fame: tacky, expensive, and only for baseball fans. Afterwards we split up: I want to go to the used bookstore, and he wants to check out the tacky souvenir shops.
When we reunite, Bob has a high school boy in tow. "This is Jesus, from Mexico. He's staying with his parents are staying at the Otesaga Resort. He invited us to go swimming."
More swimming? We're staying at a lake!
"No thanks -- you go ahead. I'll meet you at the Otesaga in about two hours."
In the evening we have dinner with Troy and Charles, then return to the lake house. It's quite late, so I go to bed, leaving them watching CNN.
Before I can fall asleep, Bob and Troy come in.
"You're not getting out of here without a little sharing," Troy says with a grin.
"Be quiet -- grandparents in the next room."
"Oh, they're out on the deck, talking to Charles.
"And that's much better?"
Troy goes down on me while Bob and I kiss. But the situation is too weird, and I can't finish. He gives up and goes down on Bob instead, who finishes very quickly.
MondayCharles and Troy have to get up very early to go to work, so Bob and I get up early, too. There's not even time for morning sex. We're on the road before the sun rises.
"Sorry you had to go through that ordeal," I tell Bob. "Charles' family was nice and all, but so darn heterosexual! I can't wait to get to the Flex Club in Cleveland, and get some action."
"What are you talking about?" Bob asks. "It was nonstop action. I can't even remember all the guys who went down on me. Not counting you, six -- no, seven! I had a blast!"
Obviously I was at a different lake house.
Next: Bob's Version
See also: 13 Guys in One Night at a Bathhouse in Cleveland
You're probably wondering how Charles, who just turned 50, has grandparents in their early 80s. Turns out that they're not his biological grandparents, they're his grandmother's cousin and her husband.
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